


Keep It Long

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Just a trim, probably. They both know what the other likes.





	Keep It Long

**Author's Note:**

> a lil thing for a headcanon while i work on something else

“I think,” Mòrag says, examining herself in a mirror, “I may be overdue for a haircut.”

Brighid is already rising and moving over to stand behind her before she's hardly even done speaking. She peers at Mòrag in the mirror and rests her hands upon her shoulders to absentmindedly rub at the tensed muscles there. For a bit she only hums under her breath, waiting for Mòrag’s gaze to turn to her before responding.

“Just the usual trim?”

“Shorter, perhaps.”

One eyebrow goes up. Brighid’s hands move up to delicately frame Mòrag’s jaw. “How short are you talking about, now?”

“Well…” Mòrag seems to struggle with words as she's being stroked like… that, although her composure seems to be more or less unshaken for the time being. She reaches for the strand that crosses over her face and rubs it between her thumb and forefinger. “ _Short._ ”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Lady Mòrag.”

“You know well enough what I mean to imply.” Mòrag frowns. “What do you think, Brighid?”

“I think you would look lovely no matter what hairstyle you decide to sport.”

“Ah, I’m not the only one with non-commital answers tonight, it seems.”

Brighid combs her fingers through the length of Mòrag’s hair, the strands flowing between them like water. No matter how grimy everyone gets during the rougher parts of their travels, she can always consistently depend on Mòrag alone to maintain her hygiene even if they’re camping in the forest or taking shelter in some damp cave. It’s an astounding feat, truly. Even today, after a full day of trudging across treacherous landscape and fighting off hostile beasts, Mòrag’s hair is somehow silky smooth and untangled, even when it's been trapped in the tight confinements of her hat for so many hours.

She kind of wants to lean down to smell Mòrag. Later, maybe. It's not weird, she tells herself. 

But, still.

How can a regular human woman be so… _so…_

“Brighid?”

“Oh—“ Brighid covers Mòrag’s eyes for a moment, just because. What was she even thinking about? Ah, yes. Her hands slide back down to Mòrag's jaw (fingertips lingering over her lips, a bit too long to be unnoticeable), then down her neck, and come to lay flat upon her chest. Brighid sighs and leans forward against her. “Don’t mind me. It’s getting late.”

In the mirror, Mòrag is no longer paying any mind to her own reflection. 

“Would you trim my hair for me in the morning, then?”

“Of course, Lady Mòrag.”

Mòrag studies Brighid's expression, then nods. “I’ll keep it at this length.”

“Even this silly thing?” Brighid plays with that strand between her eyes, and Mòrag softly laughs.

“I know you like it this way. It’s grown on me as well, I must admit. I can’t imagine keeping my hair in any other fashion.”

Brighid can already feel her flames heating up, and she’s careful to let go of Mòrag’s hair before it can burn. “I’m _flattered_ that you would do that for my gratification.”

“It’s of no consequence,” Mòrag casually says. “As I said, I’ve come to like it this way as well.”

She smiles, then smiles wider when Mòrag motions for her to sit on her lap. Mòrag tangles her fingers through Brighid’s hair as Brighid pulls Mòrag close to herself, pressing her nose to the crown of her head and inhaling her scent.


End file.
